


Dickens, Where Art Thou?

by Somniare



Series: Phrase Challenge [4]
Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 21:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3666165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somniare/pseuds/Somniare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs Maguire turned slowly and scanned the floor.  Where was Dickens?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dickens, Where Art Thou?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Barcardivodka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barcardivodka/gifts).



With the last of the cleaning done, and the linens hanging out to dry, Mrs Maguire decided to allow herself the luxury of a cup of tea and five minutes with her feet up.  With Leonard visiting his mother and Sidney away in London with the bishop, it had been the perfect opportunity to clean the entire vicarage in one day, a task she hadn’t managed since Leonard had arrived.  It was very satisfying.

With the kettle on to boil, she dried and put away the breakfast dishes.  Everything was in its place.

“Now if only Mr Chambers could keep it neat,” she murmured to herself.  “Mr Finch manages quite nicely, so I don’t…”  Mrs Maguire turned slowly and scanned the floor.  Where was Dickens?

Once the vacuum cleaner was put away, the pup would normally come scrambling out from wherever he’d hidden to make whatever mess he could.  It was deliberate, of that she was certain.  If Dickens ever ran away, Mrs Maguire wouldn’t miss him.  Not very much.  However, Mr Chambers would be most upset if any harm were to befall Dickens, as would Mr Finch, and that just wouldn’t do.  “Best find him, I suppose.”

She huffed, lifted the kettle from the stove, and turned off the gas.  Then she moved into the hallway and listened.  The house was silent.  No claws clicked against the wooden floor.  She could hear neither barking nor snuffling.

“Where is that dog?”

She took a morsel of leftover beef from the Sunday roast and moved carefully from room to room, waving it around.  She checked in the front room, under Mr Chamber’s desk, in the bathroom, and under the beds.

The black pup was nowhere to be found.

“Where are you, you little devil?” she murmured to herself.  Standing in the hallway, she called out, “Dickens!  Come here!”

Her gaze drifted out the window and over to the church.  “So much for five minutes of peace.”  Mrs Maguire took off her apron, hanging it neatly on a hook, and, putting on her hat, coat, and gloves, made her way over to the churchyard.  “If I find you digging among the headstones again, young Dickens, I will be telling Mr Chambers, you mark my words.”

The ground around the headstones closest to the church was untouched.  Mrs Maguire walked briskly around the building, scanning the grounds as she went.  The soft soil of a recent burial was undisturbed.  No vases were tipped over, and no flowers had been eaten – Dickens had recently taken quite a fancy to daisies.  She came to a halt at the sight of a small black shape tucked under the hedge.

“Dickens?”  There was no movement.  Mrs Maguire moved closer.  “Dickens!” she said more sharply.

Not a twitch.  She took a step closer and called out again.  All was still.  She bent down, picked up a fallen acorn, and rolled it towards the mound.  It bounced off, and the mound didn’t move.

“Oh, no.”  She covered her mouth with a gloved hand.  “Oh, dear.”  She roughly wiped away a tear and quickly glanced around.  No-one else was in sight.

She quietly prayed.  “Wake up, Dickens.  Please,” she whispered.

Tucking her coat around her, she knelt down beside the hedge and rested her hands on her lap.  “Oh, you poor boy.  Whatever has happened?  And whatever will I tell Mr Chambers?”

The ground was cold, the chill seeping through Mrs Maguire’s coat and into her knees.  “Can’t leave you there, dear boy.”  She took a deep breath and reach out to pull the pup from his resting place.

The mound collapsed under her hand.

“What the dickens?”  She stared in disbelief.  Her gloved fingers closed around the soft material beneath them.  Her mouth fell open as the mound unravelled as she pulled it towards her.

“Well, I never…”  Perhaps it was time to have her eyes checked again.  What she had thought was the missing pup was actually Mr Chambers’ missing tippet, which had disappeared from the vestry after the recent funeral.  How it came to be coiled around itself under the hedge was anyone’s guess, though Mrs Maguire knew Mr Chambers would be very glad to see it returned.

But where was Dickens?

There was a roar from the far side of the churchyard.

“Getoutofityoumuckypup!”  A yip.  A bark.  The other end of the hedge shook and small black rocket popped out of it in a shower of torn leaves.

“Dickens!” she cried with joy.  The pup made a sharp turn and scooted towards her.  “I thought you were dead,” she exclaimed.  “You naughty, naughty boy.  You must never run off like that again.  What would Mr Chambers say?”  She twirled as the pup ran in circles around her.  “Stop!”  Dickens staggered to a halt, stood with his four paws spread wide – no doubt ready to dash away again – and watched her.  “Now listen here, young Dickens, you need someone to take you in hand like I did with Mr Chambers.  I shall have a word with Mr Brant to instruct Mr Finch.  No good teaching Mr Chambers; you’ve already got him wrapped around your little...paw.”

A sharp, cheeky yap.

“That’s enough of that.  Time to come home.”  She started to walk away and beckoned the pup to follow.  He sat down stubbornly with his tail vigorously sweeping the grass.

“Well, come on then.  I am not going to carry you.”

Dicken's tongue lolled from one side of his mouth and the tail swung faster.

“Well, I…”  She thought for a moment.  “Don't you move,” she said sternly, waggling her finger at the pup, before turning and heading for the Vicarage.  A ‘look at me’ yap came from close to her heel as she left the churchyard, and then she heard the click of claws on the road beside her.

"You contrary little creature," she murmured, and a small smile danced on her lips.  She was certain neither Mr Chambers nor Mr Finch would notice if another slice of the beef was missing.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: "I thought you were dead"


End file.
